The Joy of Linguistics
by Thescentofmoonlight
Summary: America finds out what the word uke means, and notices it sounds like UK. Which, of course, results in a fight, which, typically for fanfiction, results in something else. UKUS, in that order. Because I can. Warnings inside.


**Warnings: Much swearing, explicit gay sex between consenting adults, Seme!UK Uke!US, and a certain amount of... Dirty talking? I think that's what it is. Anyway, enjoy the (hopefully) funny, smutty goodness!**

Prologue: "Uh, America-san..."  
"Yeah, J-bro?"  
"Prease don't carr me that... Uh, who is "the uke", and how the herr do you know what that means?" Japan asked, showing America a text from himself. It read "Hi J, sorry I din call u bak last nite. Went 4 drinkzz. Wud tell u what happend, but u no wat the ukes like, he swore me 2 secresy. Kthxbai, Merica."  
"Dude, that's a typo. I meant the UK. Y'know, England?"  
"Oh! ... Thank goodness."  
"What is a uke, anyway?"  
"Uhhhh... Werr..."

"HEY, IGGY!" yelled America, bursting through England's front door.  
"Don't call me that! My name is England? What the hell do you want, anyway?" He looked up from his needlework with an irate expression.  
"Wanna learn a new word?"  
"Not really. Do you? I know a few good ones..."  
"Like what?"  
"Like **[CENSORED]**. As in 'Leave me _alone, _you **[CENSORED]**'"  
"Very funny. But seriously, J-bro taught me a new Japanese word!"  
"Go on then, what is it?"  
"Uke! It's like your name with an E on the end!" said America, before dissolving into giggles.  
"What the bloody hell is a uke? And why is it so funny?"  
"I-it's... haha... The "girl" in a gay relationship!" and, again with the incoherent laughing.  
"Oh, hilarious. You are so childish."  
"Well it does describe you pretty well. I mean, you spend all day drinking tea and embroidering shit!"  
"I AM NOT A GIRL! OR A UKE!"  
"Are too."  
"Am not!"  
"Are too!"  
"Am not!"  
"Grrrr!"  
"Grrrr!"

_

The room was... well, trashed. The two nations were exhausted. They sat on other sides of the room, panting and glaring at each other.  
"... It would be nice if we could spend time together, just once, without you starting some stupid fight."  
"I didn't start it! You did! Anyway, you're still a uke."  
"In what way am I the "girl" in a gay relationship?"  
"Uhhhh... I dunno. You just are. Like, whenever France fucks you or whatever."  
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?" he yelled, before taking a deep breath, and continuing. "One, France and I have never... No. Just no. And two, if we did, which would never happen, I would not be the girl. I would make him my bitch." he intoned, with a steely glint in his eye.

America looked at England. That was a very odd thing to hear his former mentor say. Like, really odd. And a horrible mental image... Oh god, get out! Aaaagh! America shook his head, hard, to get rid of the thoughts. Of course, this action increased the flow of blood to his head, causing him to go red in the face. It also made him a little warm, so he undid a couple of buttons. Not for any other reason than slightly overheating, of course.

"America? Are you alright?"  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... Weird thoughts."  
"I hope they're unrelated to your opinion that I'm a uke."  
"They're... not. Technically?"  
"Technically?"  
"Uh... Yeah... You're the seme... IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU PUT THE IDEA IN MY HEAD AND NOW I CAN'T LOOK FRANCE IN THE EYE EVER AGAIN!" yelled America, going even redder.  
"What the... What? What's a se- wait, don't tell me, the opposit of a uke. Right, okay, unwanted mental images happen to the best of us, fair enough. But that doesn't explain why you're blushing like a schoolgirl."  
"I AM NOT! I'm red in the face from shaking my head real hard to get rid of the mental images of you dominating France."  
"Dominating?" smirked England, "That's a good descriptive word. You have a rather vivid imagination, don't you?"  
"Uhhhh..." England grinned like the Chesire Cat that got the cream. America was so rarely uncomfortable that seeing him reduced to a blushing, squirming mess was very satisfying. The older nation then quickly sidestepped thoughts of _other_ ways of reducing him to such, and said again "Don't you, America?"  
"Don't want one..."  
"Look at you, blushing and mumbling. You're much more of a uke than I am."  
"Bullshit."  
"You're young, naive, have big blue sparkly eyes, mumble, blush, laugh at immature things, and, at a guess, are submissive in bed. You practically have a sign stuck to your back that says 'fuck me hard'. And I reckon anyone I asked would agree with me."  
America had no idea what to say. So, of course, he stuck his tounge out at England and said "You only see me like that because you want to fuck me. Guess I'm just too sexy!" England glared, and grabbed him by the throat. "Let's see if your "sexiness" helps in a fight..."

America lay face-down on the floor. England was on top of him, one arm loosely around his neck. Both were gasping for breath. Get your mind out of the gutter.  
"Get off, Iggy... Enough fighting for today..."  
"I'm... *pant* not giving up..."  
America managed to roll on to his side. "Enough fighting, you asshole." he said.  
"If we're not going to fight, then look at me. I'm not talking to your back." The youth rolled over, reluctantly, to face England. There was a moment of slightly awkward silence, broken by "I wonder what old Francy-Pants would think if he walked in right now?"  
"I was just thinking that. I dunno, dude. Probably that we were gonna start making out in a minute. Which we're not. Because that would be weird." "Yes it would." "Totally." "Yep."  
... And as one... "DAMMIT."

Some narrative conventions are too strong and useful to ignore. And when two people start saying that kind of thing, it _must_ result in making out. One of the laws of stories, like when a laden table collapses a plate must roll away intact.  
After the dammit and a few moments of awkwardly avoiding eye contact, England rolled his eyes and pulled America towards them, pressing their lips together. They both knew it was a bad idea. They both went along with it.

England wound his fingers through America's hair, pulling him closer, making him moan ever-so-slightly. The elder nation would've grinned had the kiss allowed it, and slipped his tounge into the American's invitingly warm mouth, tasting, exploring. The other allowed himself to be swept away by it, caught up in a combination of shock and lust. England was kissing him. What? But he was a good kisser... Wait, what was he...

The Brit moved away from America's lips, brushing his own down the younger's jawline and suddenly, harshly, biting at his neck. "A-ah! What the... aah..." England smiled, and pulled back slightly. "No... Harder... Please..." That boy really can't keep his mouth shut, can he? wondered England. But since he asked so nicely... He returned to the other's neck, biting, sucking, _claiming_. Now that was a thought, claiming him, taking him... Oh yes.  
The elder nation pressed his thigh to America's groin, testing for a reaction. He got one.  
"Wh-what the hell are you do-nngh!" The other grinned, moving his leg slightly. So sensitive, like a bloody virgin... He was shaken from his thoughts by suddenly focused blue eyes burning into his.  
"Iggy. Bedroom. Now. Okay?"  
"Oka-gah! What the hell put me down this is undignified HELP!" Wow, America's pretty strong.

_Clothes are discarded, etc_

They fell on to the bed in just their boxers, still kissing, grinding against each other wantonly. England sat up, finding himself in America's lap. "Say, America..." "Y-yeah?" "I'm going to fuck you until you scream. Just to let you know." He smiled softly, before glancing around with a thoughtful expression.  
"Do you have any lube anywhere?"  
"What? England, why are you all the way up the-ere..." he writhed under the other, trying to see without his glasses.  
"Lubricant. Where."  
"None, don't got any... Nnngh..."  
The island nation rolled his eyes. "Okay, we'll improvise." he sighed, pushing three fingers into the other's mouth. America wasn't too sure what was happening, but sucked on them without being asked. England stroked his hair, letting his eyes close. Why _did_ that feel so good... But all this foreplay was trying his patience. He removed his fingers and moved down his lover's body, pushing his boxers away to expose him completely. The elder smiled, and pressed one slick finger to the other's entrance, before pushing it in.

America cursed. It didn't exactly _hurt_, but it wasn't comfortable. But he felt another digit enter him, and _then_...  
"England! That huuurts!" England mumbled something, thinking fast. He suddenly ran his tounge up the underside of America's member, eliciting a moan, before taking it into his mouth and sucking. The younger bucked upwards, head back, eyes screwed shut, loving the feeling of the other's mouth on him. The UK hummed gently, adding another finger, ignoring the whimper of pain, and searching, now, for that one spot that would make the American _screa_- "ENGLAND! THERE!" There we go. He continued for a few moments more, brushing teasingly against his lover's sweet spot once or twice. Then he withdrew his fingers and removed his mouth, to some complaint.

"Iggy! What the hell, that felt good, why'd you stop, seriousl-mmph!" He was silenced as England pulled him by the hair into a sitting position, and thrust his cock into his mouth, harshly, boxers long gone. "This needs some lubrication too." the island muttered under his breath, grinning. The grin vanished, however, and was replaced by an expression of shock and pleasure when America started to suck, humming softly and swirling his tongue around the head.  
"America... Fuck..." he mumbled, before pulling himself together and pushing the other back down onto the bed.  
England pushed the American's legs apart, before thrusting into him halfway, when...  
"OW! Iggy, stooop..." Eyes wide, blushing, with a look of pain on his face, America looked... Well, utterly, deliciously fuckable.  
"Just relax, love. It'll feel good in a moment..." he grasped the younger's hips, aiming, rocking back and forth ever-so-slightly. But he was so tight, and so cute, and England was so close to just losing it and slamming into him... Damn it... America arched his hips slightly, and suddenly the other was moving just right. He moaned, gripping the sheets, and England remembered how this whole thing started. And he stopped.

"Wha?" Hey! Why'd you..."  
"Sorry, I'm just not sure I should be doing this..."  
"What the fuck? W-why not?"  
"Well, I _am_ a uke..."  
"No you're not... Please... England..."  
"You said I was. Does this mean you take it back?" he asked, grinning darkly.  
"Yes! Yes, I take it back, you're not a uke, I swear, now please fuck me! Please... I need you..." America moaned and wrapped his legs around Britain, pride forgotten.  
"Oh America... You are such a... You're so _fuckable_. How can I resist?" he looked the younger nation right in the eye, and spoke softly. "I am going to hammer you so hard you won't be able to feel anything tomorrow. And you are going to love it." America whimpered and nodded, eyes full of need.

He slammed in to the country beneath him, hard and fast and at _just_ the right angle, making him see stars and make that _noise_, that breathless little sound that made England want to screw him into unconciousness...  
"Oh America... You are so cute. So needy. So _tight_. So. Fucking. _Sweet._" mumbled the elder, pounding into him every. Full. Stop. America yelled, going crazy, and wrapped his arms around England, leaving scratches on his back, bite marks in his shoulder. The other gasped, pain mixing with pleasure, and moved faster, losing rythym, hell, losing _control_. America could hardly think... He was... it was... "Talk to me... America..." He lost it.  
"AAAAAH! Englaaand! Please... Feels amazing... Oh god... Need m-more..."  
"Mmph. Good. Yes. Oh, god bless America..." England could feel himself getting closer, and he knew America was too... "Iggy!" Dammit!  
"For the love of any three gods. Not Iggy. England. Or Arthur. if you must."  
"Arthur... Nice name. I'm A-AH! Al-fred... Ahhh..."  
"Hmmmm... I think I like how you say my name. Say it again?"  
"Arthur!"  
"Oh... Alfred..."  
"Arthur... Oh hell please stop talking and just fuck me I'm so close seriouslyyyy..." Well, when he put it that way... England moved faster, the friction driving both of them nearer to the edge... But damned if he was going to come before that burger-eating invasion monkey! His hand ran down America's toned chest to stroke his member, hard, fast... He pressed his thumb to the tip roughly, and-  
"AH! ARTHUR!" he came hard, seeing white, tightening around the other, pushing _him_ over the edge...  
"Oh fuck ALFRED!" He cried, wrapping his arms around his lover, before pulling out after a moment and collapsing on the bed, panting slightly. They lay there in the afterglow, panting. And soon, they fell asleep.

"Was that a good idea?" asked England the next day, munching a slice of toast.  
"Nope."  
"Are we dating now?"  
"Do you want to?" smiled America, sky-blue eyes sparkling.  
"Well, I suppose we could try it..."  
"Sounds like an idea... But don't tell France, or he could have unforseen rantings."  
"Wha-... Okay. Great. Okay. I have a boyfriend now."  
"Yep. Good, isn'it?"

"Oh, hello Japan."  
"Herro, uke-san."  
"Beg your pardon?"  
"Uh, I said herro, UK-san."  
"Ah. Terribly sorry. Misheard."  
"Oh... OKay... Uh..." Japan looked at the ground, cursing his slip of the tongue.  
"Say, Japan, have you spoken to America lately?"  
"Hai. Why?"  
"You didn't teach him a new word, perchance?"  
"Uh... Maybe?"  
"Only he taught it to me."  
"Oh... Uh... What was it?" he asked, feigning ignorance.  
"Uke."  
"What did he tell you it means?"  
"Apparently it's difficult to translate into English, but I can think of a good definition..."  
"Oh r-rearry?" Japan wondered where he was going with this...  
"America." England smiled and walked off, leaving Japan with a shocked expression. (And a sudden urge to do some drawing...)

.**A.N. Oh look, a UKUS lemon! Lovely stuff, albeit a little over-the-top at times. But I quite like that. I hope you agree. I know it seems counterintuitive, but uke America is just so... cute/hot/funny (delete as appropriate). Anyway, review if you liked it, review if you didn't, don't review if you can't be arsed. Flames will be used to boil the kettle so England and I can have a cuppa (cup of tea, for the non-Brits). Many thanks for reading, TSOM.  
P.S. Poor Japan... so awkward and adorable... Hey, that gives me an idea... *runs off***


End file.
